Just A Breeze
by Captain Mockingjay
Summary: Mockinjay Spoilers! The story of Finnick and Annie's son and his struggles to find himself and the father he never had. Rated T for mentions of Finnick's um...enslavement...at the hands of Presidnt Snow. But still totally clean. Please R&R! On hiatus for now. Sorry guys!
1. Just A Breeze

**A/N: Ok, new fanfic. This is my second one to any new minions-I mean followers! ;) Anyway, this is the story of Finnick and Annie's son and him dealing with people comparing him to Finnick (may his soul rest in peace) and trying to find himself. It's starting out as a one-shot, but I may add more if y'all like it :) Ok, read on!**

**Just a Breeze**

I stood on the dock, simply staring off at the ocean. The sun was setting, casting orange streaks across the crystal blue water of District 4. I liked to sit here, and feel the breeze run through my hair. Here I felt calm, and…_closer_ to him, somehow, to my father. I am Theseus Odair. My father is Finnick Odair.

I never knew him; he died before I was born. But I always hear people talking about him. My mother told me he was a great soldier during the rebellion, even gave his life to save his comrades, comrades who eventually took out President Snow. Someone else told me how he was a brave man who was forced to endure the Hunger Games twice. Other people have told me was a player and a prostitute for the Capitol. The last one really bothered me. When I confronted my mother about this, she told me how, after his first Hunger Games victory, he was forced into prostitution by President Snow because of his beauty. I was horrified how someone could do that to another human being. But my father was strong, and pulled through to help end Snow's tyranny. I'm proud to call him my father.

I truly wish I could meet him. I know so much about him. My mother, Annie, can talk to me for hours about him. It makes me miss him that much more. She always tells me how much I look like him, how some days, she'll look out at the docks by our house and swear she sees him there, the sunlight reflecting off of his fair hair, the light bouncing off the water, making waves dance across his tanned body. But then he turns around, and she sees my face there. Not Finnick's. She tells me how much he loved the sea, and would spend hours out in the water, just engulfing himself in its cool touch. She tells me of their wedding day and the look of pure bliss in his sea green eyes, and of the ocean themed cake that made them sparkle. I guess it reminded him of home.

I too love the sea. I spend so many days out here, just smelling the salt in the air, dreaming of the father I never knew, but want so much to become. It pains me every time I hear the mention of his name. People see me and stare. I'm Finnick Odair's son, the boy whose father gave his life to save all of Panem. I hear them, as I walk by, compare me to him. _He looks just like him. His eyes, though, they're crazy like his mom's. Can he throw a trident? Does he know who his father is? Is that Finnick? How did he come back?_

I've worked so hard to be like him. My mother tells me how great he was with a trident, how it was the only thing that saved him in his first Games. I've trained with a trident, to try to follow in his footsteps. I can fight with it, but the spear is my weapon. You can fight with it from afar or up close. I love it. I've tried to find other ways to connect to him too. I watched some footage from the Quarter Quell, and watched the girl he allied with, Katniss Everdeen. She was incredible with a bow. I tried to fight with one of those too. But it just didn't click. I can't leave my spear.

I sit here on the dock now, trying to find him. I cry as I think of all the things about him I'll never know. I pray every day that I can see him, just once. Just to know he's there, that he's proud of me. I lift my head to that cool sea breeze. I call out, "Please! If you're there, I need a sign. I try so hard to know you. Are you proud? Can you even hear me?" I put my face in my hands, crying, wishing that I could know him. The breeze picks up, and I swear I hear something new in it. It's almost like a whisper, _Yes…Theseus…proud…well…son…_ My spirits seem to lift, if only for a moment. The breeze was so warm for the ocean. So comforting and warm. Could it be…? No, it couldn't. It was just a breeze, wasn't it?

I look into the water and stare at my reflection. I've seen pictures of my father before, and everyone says I look just like him. I can see what they mean. The clear water reflects my face like a mirror; my bronze colored hair, my eyes as green as the sea, my tanned skin, darkened from days spent out at sea under the blazing sun of District 4. But I can also see parts of me that are, well, _me._ My eyes are larger than Finnick's, brighter, and—as my friends have told me—crazier. I'm not as muscular as my father but more streamlined and fast, I'm built for swimming fast. I don't have that same seductive look of my dad; I think I seem more calm and inviting, like I want to be your friend, not your lover. As I start to really examine myself, I realize something. I'm not my father. Why do I keep trying so hard to be? I am myself. And that's what I need to be. I need to stop worrying about filling my father's shoes and more about wearing my own. I love my father, and grieve for the relationship we never had, but I need to move on and be myself.

I gathered my things and walked back up to my house. I needed to know more about him, but I also needed to move on with my own life. I'm twenty years old, and have made nothing of myself. I may be Finnick Odair's son, but first and foremost, I am Theseus Odair. I got home and started packing things. I needed to know more about the world. If that breeze meant anything, my father was proud of me. Now it's my chance to make ME proud of me. I can't sit here my whole life and dream of my lost father. If I really wanted to honor his name, then I need to make something of myself.

I went downstairs and told my mother of my plan. She smiled so big, I almost cried. I'll miss her so much. I'll come back for her, I swear it. When I've found a home for myself—when I find myself—I'll come back for her. But for now, I had another plan in mind. I'm heading to District Twelve. Another breeze picks up and blows through my bronze hair. This time, I swear, I can _feel _smile in it.

**A/N: Ok, there it is! Hope you liked it! I don't have much more to say...please R&R! **

**Fly on, Captain Mockingjay**


	2. The Capitol

**A/N: Ok, I made another chapter! I'm not sure how long this story will be, so I'm just gonna play it by ear. Thank you to my reviewers: naendra, browneyednezumi, sbclover, for giving me ideas on where to go with this story, and an extra special thanks to VannaMa'kayla, for putting in all that effort and helping me out. I owe you one, Vanna! So, in case you didn't figure it out in the last chapter or in the summary, there are LOTS of Mockingjay spoilers. Also, I tried to describe the Capitol according to the book, but I did throw in a little of my own interpretation :) Ok, on with the story!**

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><p><strong>The Capitol<strong>

I'm on one of the trains that ran between the districts, watching the world go by mile after mile, second after second. It's the first time I'd been on a train like this. Actually, it's the first time I'd left my home district. I never realized how different each district is until I saw it for myself.

District 3 flashes by. Row upon row of factories, some abandoned, and some still under operation, clogs my view. But beyond that, nestled near the hills, is a small village. Silvery, metallic houses reflect the sun, blinding me for a moment. They seem somewhat abandoned. I wonder where everybody is. Still farther from the factories, lies what used to be the Victor's Village. The Victor's Village is a neighborhood of really nice houses given to victors of the Hunger Games. My mother lives in one. Usually, they're very desolate and empty, because either the district didn't have many victors to begin with or they were killed during the rebellion. _This _Victor's Village, however, seems to be overflowing with people. There were a few more miles of grasslands and power lines before District 3 was behind me.

District 2 is mountainous and rocky, with what used to be a huge mountain, known as the "Nut", lying crumbled in the center. Layers of dust and ashes cover the area near the Nut like a blanket, a cruel, silvery reminder of the lost battle. A few of the villages near the mountain are ashen and deserted. A few miles away, though, I can see life within this barren wasteland. There is a town center, with crowds of people swarming about. There are huge buildings that remind me of the factories in District 3, except these are more open and from what I know of District 2 from school, these are—were—the training grounds for potential Hunger Games tributes and Peacekeepers. I shudder at the thought of being a small child and being _taught_ to fight and kill. The world can be so sick and cruel. Another mountain blocks my view of the District as the last miles fly by.

I realize, now, how close I'm to the Capitol. My heart starts to beat a little faster. _"I can't believe I'm _really_ doing this…"_ I'm so caught up in my own thoughts that I nearly miss District 1. I manage to catch some bright, clean houses and a lake shimmering like a thousand diamonds before it too disappears behind me.

The sun hits my window, momentarily blinding me. I blink, and when my eyes adjust…I see it. While the districts were beautiful, the next sight takes my breath away. The Capitol. Towering stone and glass buildings dominate my view. Colors too bright for the eyes swirl through crowds of people. Turquoise reflections off windows cast shimmering ripples on cold concrete sidewalks. My eyes widen in amazement. I simply can't believe what I'm seeing. Since the rebellion, most of the Capitol had to be rebuilt. Most of the people from the districts had wanted to "tone it down" a bit, but the Capitol citizens refused.

Still astonished, I stumble off the train and into the center of town. I follow a map I'd gotten on the train to the Communications Center. It's one of the tallest buildings, in the center of town. Its tall, grey-white walls climb nearly a hundred stories high, dark blue tinted windows make waves on the sidewalk in front of me. The waves remind me of the clear, blue waters of District 4. For a moment, I contemplate going back, back to the calm, comfortable life I'd used to live.

"_No, I can't then his would have been all in vain. It's too late, no turning back. I've got to move on." _I tell myself.

I walk into the building and up to the front desk. A woman with bright yellow hair-not blonde, yellow- hair sat behind the desk.

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" she asks in a perky voice. I pick up traces of the fading Capitol accent.

"Um, no. I'm here to see Plutarch Heavensbee." I tell her. "I think he may want to see me. It's very important."

She pushed a button on a machine. "Hello, Mr. Heavensbee?" she says into it. There's a garbled reply. "There's a young man here, says he needs to talk to you about something urgent."

"What's his name?" the voice, I assume Plutarch's, responds.

She looks at me expectantly. "Theseus Odair," I tell her.

"Theseus Odair, he says." The woman told Plutarch.

"Odair? Ask him how he spells it."

She looks at me again. "O-D-A-I-R. If it helps, you can tell him that my father is Finnick Odair." My chest tightens just saying his name. I wish he were here. Then I wouldn't have to be doing this and we could be home with my mother, happy.

"He says he spells it O-D-A-I-R and his father's name was Finnick."

There's a short moment of silence on Plutarch's part. Then there's a clicking sound like he's hung up.

I look at the woman awkwardly, wondering what I should do. Just before I ask her if I should leave, a dark-haired man wearing a fur-lined purple cape steps out of the elevator. He walks up to me, and his hand rushes to cover his gaping mouth. His eyes grow wide and tears start to form.

"Oh my god." He gasps. "You look _just _like him." He stares at me for a few more moments, then ushers me to the elevator. "Forgive me for staring, but, _wow_. You're his spitting image."

He leads me up to his office and shows me to a seat in front of his desk. "Oh! I've forgotten to introduce myself! I'm Plutarch Heavensbee. I worked with your father during the rebellion."

I nod. "My name is Theseus Odair; my mother is Annie Odair, or Cresta. That's her maiden name."

"Ah, Annie, I remember her. How is she? You know, I was there when she and your father were married? I coordinated the whole thing. It was lovely! Anyways, why are you here, Theseus?"

"My mother's doing very well, actually." I smile. It's not often people as how my mother is. Usually they just gape and mutter about Finnick. "And I'm here…well, I'm here because I want to learn more about my father. And I think you may be able to help me."

"Oh, it pains me to tell you this, boy, but I never really knew your father all that well. True, we worked together a lot during the rebellion, but I think your mother will know more about him than I." Plutarch says. You can hear the disappointment in his voice. "I'm afraid I can't help you."

I nod. I had feared this. "Do you know who might be able to? Maybe some of the surviving victors? Anybody?" I look at him, silently pleading that he might be able to help me.

I can give you the names of the remaining victors and which district they live in, but I'm afraid that's it. I truly am sorry, Theseus."

"Thank you, Plutarch. You have no idea how much even that is helping me." I smile. I stand up and shake his hand.

I go downstairs, and in a few minutes, Plutarch rushes over to me with a folded piece of paper. I thank him again for all his help, and leave to go catch the next train.

According to the paper, there are six remaining victors, not counting my mother. The closest one is in District 2. Her name is Enobaria. I hop on the streamlined white train and sit down in one of the black leather seats near the back.

In a few minutes, a familiar looking ash ridden mountain comes into view. When the train stops, I get out and get my first real look at District 2. Huge warehouses clutter the streets, with small stores and offices laid in between. They look so out of place among the gigantic metal buildings, like small fish among a pod of whales. It's barely visible, but you can still make out the faded writing on the warehouses. One is labeled "Archery", another is labeled "Weight Training", and so forth. These were the places used for Hunger Games training. Its haunting imagining how many people trained here, hoping it will mean their safe return home, only to be viciously murdered during the Games. Never able to see their home again.

I walk up to an older looking woman and ask her if she knows where Enobaria lives. She gives me an address in the Victor's Village. I find the place, and hope she can help me.

…

"_Well," _I think, as I rub my new bruise and climb back onto the train._ "_That_ could have gone better."_ As soon as I'd told Enobaria who I was and that all I wanted was some information on my father, she'd grabbed a knife and brandished it at me, screaming that she didn't want anything to do with "those rebels or there ghastly offspring". I'd tried to apologize, but she literally slammed the door _in my face_ and given me this horrid bruise.

I climbed back on the train for what seemed like the thousandth time, slide my bags in next to be and start staring out the window at the slowly darkening sky. After about an hour, I vaguely notice a man staring at me.

He sits in the seat across the aisle from mine. He has thick, dark brown hair that falls down to the tops of his shoulders and intense grey eyes. He looks to be about forty years old. I try to ignore him as best I can, but he keeps staring at me. I focus my gaze outside, at the stars, trying to find a familiar constellation. Suddenly, I notice my reflection. Only, it isn't _my _reflection.

It is in a way, it has the same bronze hair and sea green eyes, but there's a more serious look to those eyes and a bit of scruff growing along his jaw. I'd just shaved this morning. It wasn't my reflection. Is it crazy to say that it looks like my father? From the look he was giving me I knew what to do.

I turned to the man beside me, and I caught him staring at me again. "Yes?" I ask.

"Oh, um, nothing. I'm sorry, it's just…you remind me a lot of someone I knew a long time ago." He says. I think he was embarrassed that he'd been staring.

"Finnick Odair?"

"Yes! How'd you know?" he asks me with a surprised expression on his face.

"I'm his son. My name is Theseus Odair."

"Really? Oh, wow…"

"How did you know him?"

"He was in my unit during the rebellion. He was also a good friend of Ka-another good friend of mine."

"Really?" This guy just may be the answer to my prayers. My father had told me to talk to him. That _was_ him in the window. He is a blessing. "What's your name?"

"Gale Hawthorne."

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><p><strong>AN: Ok, so, what do you guys think? Do you still want me to write more? Please leave a review telling me what you think! And also, if you think there's any ways I can improve my writing. It would be very helpful :)**

**Fly on,**

**Captain Mockingjay**


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